


III. Defining Heartache

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-23
Updated: 2006-06-23
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:17:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sam realizes that Dean had always been there for him. Third in the Defining Series.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

_**III. Defining Series DEFINING HEARTACHE (Supernatural D/S)**_  
 **Title:** Defining Heartache  
 **Author:** Shorts  
 **Pairings/Character:** Dean/Sam  
 **Rating:** NC17  
 **Category:** Slash  
 **Word Count:** 2581  
 **Note** Without planning it, I guess I've got a little series on my hands. No idea where this will lead, or how (or when it will end). Like Sam said, there are no guarantees. The links to the other parts of the series can be reached via my info page.  
  
  
  
DEFINING HEARTACHE  
By Shorts  
  
Dean absently ran his fingers through Sam's soft, brown hair, unsure if the elusive mistress of sleep would forsake him for the rest of the night. He thought over what he had said to Sam and he was scared of whichever decision Sam would eventually arrive at.  
  
On the one hand, if Sam decided to leave after everything was said and done, he would not only lose Sam, but he would lose himself. He knew his future then, he saw it in his father. He depended on Sam to keep him connected, to feel. Without him, he would completely shut down inside. Only the drive to wipe out as many of the evil sons of bitches that roamed this earth would keep him going, until eventually he was wiped out in turn.  
  
On the other, if Sam decided to stay, he ran the fear of losing him on one of their hunts. His earlier nightmare showed him that, and he didn't know if he could live with the knowledge that he was responsible for his brother's death. Oh, Sam would never see it that way, convinced that he was old enough to take responsibility of his own actions. But he would blame himself, and nothing anyone could say would make him feel any different about it.  
  
A warm, wetness drew him out of his thoughts and he raised his head slightly to peer down at Sam. A grimace, mixed with a trace of fondness, crossed his face. Sam was drooling . . . on him. "Damn, boy. Can't take you anywhere, can I?" He whispered, using his finger to wipe the glistening spit off his chest and wipe it on the sheet. Surrendering to temptation, he lightly traced Sam's lips with his fingertips.  
  
Secure in the thought that Sam was here with him now, safe and sound, Dean relaxed. Sleep finally found him and blessed him with no dreams.  
  
Sam had been lulled back to sleep by the smooth rise and fall of Dean's chest and the steady beat of his heart. But sleep wasn't as kind to him. She was a mistress of many faces, kind and cruel as the whim took her.  
  
He felt fear soaking him through his pajamas and his sheets. The wind was blowing, rattling whatever it could throw against the house. Trying to lick his lips with a mouth gone totally dry, he quietly slid out of bed. Dad had left earlier that afternoon, saying he'd be back the next morning, and he and Dean were deemed old enough to stay by themselves.  
  
Taking slow, measured steps, he made his way carefully to his bedroom door. Stepping into the hallway, his resolve to remain brave broke and he ran as fast as his nine year old legs could carry him to Dean's room. He hit Dean's bedroom door without slowing and in two strides jumped.  
  
Dean had woken up the moment his door slammed open and had just enough time to catch him as he hurled toward him.  
  
"Sammy? What's wrong? Are you okay?" Dean held him protectively, alert for whatever had terrified his little brother bad enough to cause him to come running to him in the middle of the night.  
  
"I don't know," he answered, clinging with all his strength to Dean.  
  
"It's okay, just lie down with me," soothed Dean, shifting over to give him room once he was certain nothing was going to come racing in after his little brother. "Nothing's going to happen to you, I'm here. And Dad will be here when you wake up."  
  
Sam squirmed against Dean, gripping his arms that wrapped around him. It didn't matter to him if Dad was back in the morning, as long as Dean was there.  
  
Suddenly, he found himself packing. His few belongings stuffed in two suitcases and a duffle bag which he had just finished cramming with the remainder of his stuff. All he owned was reduced to what was at his feet. Throwing away his own life was Dad's business, but he didn't have the right to throw away his as well. He wanted more out of life, a chance to see what was out there that didn't involve blowing some nightmare away.  
  
Dad had been pissed that he was turning his back on the family, yelling that he was just running away. The accusation still stung him an hour after Dad had slammed out of the house and took off in his truck.  
  
He was filled with so much anger he hadn't noticed Dean just standing there, leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed and his face unreadable. He froze, his heart skipping a beat. Damn. If he allowed himself to think too much about Dean and the relationship they shared, he would never be able to leave.  
  
"Got everything?" asked Dean, his tone giving nothing away on what was going on behind those stormy hazel eyes.  
  
"Uh, yeah," he answered, slinging the duffle bag over his shoulder and grabbing the two suitcases. He slipped past Dean and headed downstairs and the front door.  
  
Dean nodded, then followed him downstairs. "Need a lift to the bus station?"  
  
"Nah." He could feel the hard lump in his throat, trying to strangle him. "I think I'd like to walk."  
  
"If you say so," said Dean. "But if you need anything, you call. You hear me?"  
  
"Yeah, sure." He opened the front door and pausing, he turned to Dean and lightly brushed their lips together. "I got to do this. It doesn't have anything to do with you, or us."  
  
"I know," said Dean, his voice low and soft, fading away.  
  
"Wait!"  
  
"You deserve better than this, Sammy. Better than me," came the ghostly reply.  
  
He discovered himself back at the place he had shared with Jess and quickly ran through the rooms. He stopped cold when he reached the doorway to their bedroom. He stood there and stared, for standing beside the bed was Jess, unhurt and alive with her back to him.  
  
"Jess?" he took a hesitant step forward and she slowly turned to face him.  
  
"I thought I knew you," said Jess, eyes accusing him. "But I didn't. I was in love with someone that doesn't exist, not really."  
  
"That's not true." He stumbled and reached out to her.  
  
Taking a quick, darting step back, she shook her head. "You're nothing but a pretender." She vanished without a sound.  
  
"Jess!"  
  
"I'm sorry, dude."  
  
He whirled around and there was Dean, standing in the shadows just beyond the doorway. "Dean . . . ?"  
  
"I only wanted you to be happy," said Dean, blending in with the surrounding darkness. "I can't fix this, I wish I could, but I can't. You have to find your own way. Be true to what you want, because if you make decisions based on other people, everyone gets hurt. Not just you."  
  
"I don't know what to do," he called out, feeling lost.  
  
"You will," said Dean. "Whether you hunt or not, you have to commit to your choice. No half measures."  
  
"But what about you? Why must I decide what happens to us?" He moved to the doorway, but Dean seemed to match him and remained in the shadow's veil.  
  
"Because it's the way it is," said Dean. "If you decide to stay and your heart isn't in it, you'll come to resent me and I lose you anyway. Stay or go, Sammy." As Dean spoke, he faded away, leaving him alone. "But make the right choice, or we lose no matter what."  
  
He lunged forward, trying to capture Dean before he disappeared forever.  
  
Sam jerked himself awake. He blinked and looked around, his heart pounding in his chest. It felt like it was torn in half, flying in two different directions. Closing his eyes for a moment, he placed his forehead on Dean's chest, and tried to gather himself together. "Shit."  
  
He looked up at Dean, his face slightly lined even in sleep, a testament of the worry that has plagued him the last few days. "Sleep or awake, you're leaving our future in my hands," he whispered. "And I have no idea what to do."  
  
"Sam?" mumbled Dean, his eyes still closed as he automatically wrapped him in his arms. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"  
  
The words seemed to echo up from his dream. "Yeah," Sam answered, and watched as Dean relaxed back into sleep. Desire for Dean flared inside him, a need that wouldn't be put off until later.  
  
Gently, he took one of Dean's nipples between his lips and suckled, rolling it between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue. As it hardened to a tight peak, he released it and moved to the other, repeating the attention until it matched it's twin.  
  
He glanced up as Dean turned his head to the side in his sleep, and he grinned. Moving slowly, he inched his way down the firm stomach beneath him, trailing soft kisses along the way. He was rewarded with the muscles slightly twitching under his lips, as he continued to the semi hardness that was his goal.  
  
Licking his lips, he nudged the silky flesh into his mouth and lightly sucked, setting a gentle pulsing rhythm, interspersed with a sliding of his tongue. He was rewarded with a soft groan, and Dean's legs instinctively shifted to give him easier access to all of him.  
  
Amazed at the trust that Dean held for him, even in sleep, Sam held the base of Dean's growing manhood with one hand and cupped the heavy ovals in the other. With slow, deliberate movements, he massaged them in time to the actions of his mouth.  
  
Dean woke to the pleasant sensation surrounding his cock and balls, inhaling sharply as Sam's tongue flicked across the tiny slit that had started weeping. He bent his knees and reached down, tangling his fingers in Sam's hair, his hips bucking in shallow thrusts in time with Sam.  
  
Now that Dean was awake, Sam concentrated and increased his movements with speed and pressure. An idea flashed to mind, one that had flitted by before, but had never been acted on by either of them. Coating a finger on the hand steadying Dean's cock with his spit, he released the tightening sacs and switched hands. Unsure exactly what Dean's reaction was going to be, he braced himself behind Dean's thighs and lightly pressed against the small opening of his ass.  
  
"Sam!" yelled Dean, jerking his legs downward, trying to shove himself away from the unexpected touch.  
  
Sam allowed Dean's cock to slip from his mouth and caught him in mid attempt of flight. He wrapped an arm tightly around one of his thighs and held him in place, while his finger remained firmly against the twitching opening, unmoving. "Are you okay?"  
  
Dean swallowed, his entire attention focused on that single, tentative touch.  
  
"Dean?" asked Sam, his brow furrowing.  
  
"I'm not sure," Dean finally answered, locking eyes with Sam. The gaze that met him was mixed with uncertainty and determination. "Um, what, uh, exactly do you have in mind here?"  
  
"Nothing we're not both comfortable with," answered Sam, biting his lower lip.  
  
"I see," said Dean, clearly not.  
  
"I'm not planning on mounting you, Dean," said Sam, trying to encourage him to relax back on the bed.  
  
Dean's eyebrows rose and his eyes widened.  
  
"It's just a small thing I wanted to try," said Sam, his voice soothing.  
  
"How small?" demanded Dean.  
  
"Nothing more than a single finger," assured Sam. "I've read that massaging or rubbing the prostate can really increase the pleasure."  
  
"You read this, huh?" Despite the strange sensation, he forced himself to relax a little.  
  
Sam took that as a sign of encouragement and loosened his hold on Dean's leg. He ran his hand up and down, caressing the soft skin on the inner side of Dean's thigh. "But if it isn't something you're comfortable with, we'll just forget it." He rubbed his finger in a small circle as he gripped Dean's softened erection with his free hand and started to slide it up and down.  
  
Dean's mouth fell open slightly and his eyelids drooped, as he continued to hold Sam's gaze. "If this is what you want, okay. We'll give it a try." His words sounded thick and he felt himself harden from the dual sensations.  
  
Sam stopped moving his hands and shook his head. "It has to be something we both want."  
  
Dean gave a barely noticeable nod and eased himself the rest away back on the bed.  
  
"If this turns out to be a bad idea, we stop," said Sam, lowering his head once again to take Dean into his mouth.  
  
Dean closed his eyes. Gradually he got used to Sam's light touch and once again his hips found Sam's steady rhythm.  
  
Bringing his finger to his mouth to coat it again, Sam was relieved that Dean seemed to be enjoying it. Now came the real test and he circled the tiny opening once then pushed inside. The moment he did, Dean went completely still, the muscles clamping down tight on his finger intruding his body. Not wanting to give Dean too much time to think about what he was doing, he increased the suction with his mouth and picked up speed. Slowly he moved his finger in and out, searching for the little bump he knew was there somewhere.  
  
Dean's breath caught in his throat at the strange sensation, and his mind kept shying away from really thinking about what they were doing. It felt like his entire body was wired, each puff of Sam's breath on his skin, every stroke and touch was felt and magnified.  
  
Sam imagined what it would be like to have the soft, clenching muscles surrounding his cock instead of his finger and his own erection twitched and weeped with desire. Wiggling his finger deeper, he found what he had been searching for.  
  
"Sam!" yelled Dean, this time as shock waves of intense pleasure rocked through him and he arched, the tendons in his neck and back straining as he came.  
  
Struggling against Dean's bucking hips, Sam continued to rub the little nub and finished milking Dean's orgasm with his fist.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity, Dean finally collapsed, his breathing hoarse and his heart racing. "Fuck."  
  
"Pretty good, huh?" grinned Sam, crawling up Dean's prone body and settling on him.  
  
"Understatement," gasped Dean. He became aware of Sam's need pressing against him and took him in hand. The moment he encircled him, he came. "Damn, Sam."  
  
Sam gave him a quick, lopsided grin and nestled his face into the crook of Dean's neck. "Guess seeing you like that just got to me."  
  
Dean hugged him and squeezed tightly, his skin tingling from the residue of his orgasm. "What brought this on?"  
  
The dreams flooded back to Sam, and the heartbreak that went with them. "Just needed you."  
  
Certain there was more to it than that, Dean decided to let it go. "We're not getting much sleep tonight," he said instead, while the phantom touch still lingered inside him.  
  
"Not like we have to be anywhere tomorrow," said Sam, easing off of him and rolling on his side.  
  
"True," said Dean, spooning close behind him. "Guess it's sleeping in for both of us."  
  
"We'll see," smiled Sam. He may not be any closer to knowing what the future held, but right now, it was good.


End file.
